Low Card
by ratedgdr
Summary: Part of the "Saffron Justice" series: A series of deaths forcibly re-opens a chapter in Frank Caldwell's life... and it could destroy him both professionally and personally. Rated M for language, lemons, violence, and poker.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or any related trademarks.**

**Why yes, the Saffron Justice series is back. However, I might also work on a couple of other fanfics, both of Neon Genesis Evangelion. Whether I actually DO try writing these at the same time is unsure. I'm a bit worried about hitting writer's block doing that. (And if you've read it yet, "Paradise" is something that came to me more or less as a result of writer's block. Took me only a few nights to write it all down, too. Guess Ash and I have something in common, haha. Unfortunately, it's not sex with Sabrina….)**

**Language warning:**

The doors automatically slid open as the woman approached the Celadon City Mall.

What she wanted was nothing much, just regular items to keep her Pokemon healthy.

Around her, however, were so many other stores offering various things to both trainers and non-trainers alike. It was going to take all of her willpower to avoid going on a spending binge again.

She avoided looking at herself in the windows and mirrors as she walked. It was not that she was unattractive, God knows she wasn't that even in her mid-thirties. She just didn't want anyone recognizing her, and she certainly didn't like recognizing herself.

Which was why she had gone with a baseball cap to conceal her dark brown pixie-cut hair (the stress of her past triggering the occasional strand of gray), unassuming sunglasses, a loose hooded sweatshirt, and baggy slacks.

Mandy Tanahashi did not want to be recognized. Simple as that.

* * *

Neither did someone else.

The figure kept himself inconspicuous, despite constant and violent twitches. He was wearing a trench coat and a broad-brimmed hat, keeping himself concealed from the crowds. Why this did not attract the attention of the security guards roaming the premises was unknown. Normally, someone dressed that strangely would attract far too much attention.

Unnoticed, he walked up the stairs, looking for a prime spot on the second floor.

* * *

Mandy was fortunate to avoid being recognized as she made her purchases and moved along.

By now, she was hungry, and she wanted to get to the food court as quickly as possible. Head lowered, she walked briskly onward.

* * *

The figure took his place in the shadows, observing her. She didn't stop until she had reached a taco outlet. There, she stood at the counter for some time, looking up at the board with all the menu items on it. There was some acne-afflicted kid taking her order, and he looked either tired, disinterested, stoned, or all three.

_Not here, _the figure thought. _Not here not here not here not here not here not here…._

It took everything he could to keep from saying it aloud, his twitching bordering on a seizure. He tried to steady himself, knowing that he risked dropping what he brought.

* * *

Three soft shell tacos were consumed quickly by Mandy as she contemplated her next move.

_I need to finish my shopping as quickly as possible and go home, _she resolved. _The sooner I'm out of the public eye the better-_

"Hey, Donna!" yelled a voice.

She could feel herself turning several shades of pale. Turning, she saw the man standing several feet away, his medium brown hair hanging in a ponytail behind him, the stubble on his chin betraying the fact that he hadn't shaved for a couple of days. What scared her, however, was the giant R on his t-shirt, a shirt which he seemed to be wearing as some sort of bad novelty fashion statement.

"It's me, Stevie Ray! Long time, no see!" he continued as he walked towards her, arms open for a hug.

"I-I don't know who you're talking to," she stammered as she quickly got out of her chair and began to walk away.

"Aw, c'mon, Donna! What are you worried about? It's not like anybody's looking for us or something!"

She started to walk faster, afraid to look behind her.

* * *

He watched her frightened reaction as the man confronted her.

_She's one of them. I just know it._

He slipped out of his hiding place and began to follow them again.

* * *

"Come on, Donna!" he was saying. "Can't we just talk! There's nothing for us to worry about!"

"I DON'T KNOW WHO YOU'RE TALKING TO!" she wailed as she raced for the elevator.

"Donna, it's me. You can trust me, OK?"

As soon as the elevator door opened, she was in, pushing the third floor button frantically.

He wasn't able to make it to the door in time before it closed. Sighing, he decided to take the steps.

* * *

The figure was dismayed to see that she had left the floor.

He was not as dismayed to see the other man take the stairs to the next one.

As soon as he could tell that the coast was clear, he moved, still unnoticed, towards the steps and made the climb, holding onto the rail to steady himself, fearful that his spasms would cause him to tumble all the way back down.

* * *

She shot out of the elevator like she was on fire, looking around her in fright to make sure he was nowhere around-

"Donna, wait!"

She thought she was going to cry.

* * *

He noticed a pillar near one of the stores. It didn't seem to be of any purpose whatsoever. At least to anyone else.

He walked over and slipped behind it.

There, he went through his pockets.

He pulled out a thin tube, then a tiny thing, a dart, no bigger than a pea really.

He put the dart in the tube, being extremely careful not to prick himself, which he almost did several times because of the twitching.

Then he raised the tube and aimed at the woman.

* * *

"I don't know who this 'Donna' is that you're talking about, but I'm not her!" she screamed.

"Look, there's nothing to worry about. Do you see anyone following me? Nobody is looking for us, Donna. We're safe now-"

"Aack!"

She felt something sting her in the side of her neck.

He watched as her eyes grew wide in shock.

And then she collapsed, a violent seizure ripping through her body, the sounds of suffocation coming from her throat.

"DONNA?!"

He dropped to his knees beside her and began to look around in fear. "I NEED A DOCTOR OVER HERE! SOMEBODY, HELP HER! SHE'S DYING! SOMEBODY HELP US, _PLEASE!"_


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**Language warning:**

The Alakazam hit the floor with a thud.

The little Banette in front of him started jumping up and down delightedly. _"Yay! We did it, master, we did it!"_ she squeaked.

Frank Caldwell smirked. "Yep. I still got it."

"Unfortunately for me," replied Sabrina. "Alakazam, return!"

There was a glow on the floor, then nothing as the downed Psychic Pokemon returned to his Pokeball. The leader of Saffron City's official gym shook her head. "One of these days I'll learn. One of these days I'll have something to counteract that little ghost of yours."

The detective chuckled. "Yeah. Maybe."

Standing in the old Fighting Dojo, the two were a contrast of styles: he wore a black a-shirt, black jeans, and black boots. The shirt revealed a tattoo on his right shoulder that read "MY FATHER'S SON," a tattoo he had gotten over the winter. His red hair had not been cut for a couple of months, giving him a somewhat shaggy appearance. She, on the other hand, was wearing her familiar red jacket/turtleneck/whatever it was, Frank couldn't tell somedays, and black leggings, ending with her boots. Her jet black hair took on a greenish tint in the light as it went straight down to the middle of her back, the bangs in front slightly parted but not by much.

The two were silent for a while, as was the Banette.

Finally, Frank spoke. "So, I was wondering, since I don't think I'll have much to do tonight other than feed the pets, stare at the pets, and wait for my mom to come home from the bar again, maybe you and I could do something tonight?"

"Define 'do something tonight,'" was the reply.

"Oh, I don't know. Dinner, maybe?"

"Could we maybe NOT go somewhere fancy this time? I really would like to just look like a normal girl for a change."

"You're Sabrina. Normal is impossible."

"But still-"

"Besides, you know what 'non-fancy' ends up being? BUFFET! I refuse to take someone out for buffet!"

"It doesn't HAVE to be buffet, Frank. There's a perfectly good diner downtown that we could go to."

Frank sighed. "Oh, all right. Does seven sound good to pick you up?"

"We have a date!"

He couldn't hold the smile back. "Great, I'll-"

Then his phone rang.

"Aw, jeez, why does it have to ring now?" he grumbled as he answered. "Caldwell."

"Frank, you need to get to Celadon immediately," came the voice of Captain Hopfmar. "We've got a dead body-"

"Doesn't Celadon have their own police force? Let them handle it."

"They're the ones asking us to head out there."

"Seriously?"

"I'm sorry, Frank, but Commissioner Steele told them we'd be there."

"Christ."

"Yeah."

The younger detective sighed. "Fine, I'm on my way."

Sabrina had gone through her pockets and gotten the prize money together during the conversation, and was now staring at him. "Aw, you have to go now?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Sabrina. I'm supposed to head out to Celadon."

"Celadon? Isn't that out of your jurisdiction?"

"Apparently not this time. I gotta go."

"Seven tonight, remember?"

"I'll remember!" he yelled as he ran to the warp tile, not giving her time to give him his winnings.

* * *

A few moments later, he was driving at a frenzied clip towards Celadon.

He barely had time to grab his badge, his Glock, and a denim jacket before hitting the road.

As winter had turned into spring, things had quieted down for the Saffron City Police Department. It was back to the usual daily grind of thefts and other non-lethal crimes. And paperwork. Good god, the paperwork.

And yet all of a sudden, here he was, heading off to investigate a death he really had no interest in investigating.

Why?

Who did he piss off this time to have to do this?

As he came to a stop in the mall's parking lot, he was surprised to see another car pull up. He was even more surprised to see a shiny Gallade and a shiny Gardevoir that he knew all too well step out. "Tristan? Victoria? What are you doing here?"

Pokebureau Special Agent Tristan O'Meara straightened his back out. _"Got called out by Celadon's police chief. You?"_

"More or less. I wish I knew what the hell was so important about this that WE have to help them."

"_Wish I knew too, Frank."_ Victoria squinted as she stared at the building, wishing she'd worn sunglasses. She followed her Pokemon boyfriend and her human friend and ex-lover through the doors.

* * *

Saffron City Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Yuri Rashmonov was behind a veritable wall of police tape as they approached. Stuart McManus was there as well, and the detective looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"What do we got?" Frank asked.

"Name's Mandy Tanahashi, age thirty-four, dropped over, started convulsing, and-"

"That's not her name."

"Uh, Frank, I checked her I.D., her name is-"

"Donna Milani."

Stuart looked annoyed. "Frank-"

"Donna Milani," Frank repeated. "Also known as 'Deckmistress Donna.' She was part of the third incarnation of Team Rocket, the one we took down a couple of years ago."

"I remember us shutting them down, but-"

"She was Giovanni's favorite dealer and knew every trick in the trade. That's part of the reason why the group became a major problem again as quickly as they did, because she was able to screw people over at the tables. And in Giovanni's private Texas Hold 'Em parties, she was the one dealing every time and more often than not she would make sure her boss got the better hand. Only one person was really ever able to beat her and, by extension, Giovanni."

He spotted the man standing outside the tape, his faded t-shirt standing out like a sore thumb with that large red R on the front. "Me."

He exited the tape and walked over to the man.

* * *

While this conversation was taking place, the two Pokebureau agents went over to Dr. Rashmonov. _"Hey, doc,"_ said Victoria.

The Slavic man turned his head to look at her. "Ah, Agent Stillwater. I have not seen you in quite some time."

"_I know. Doc, this is Agent Tristan O'Meara," _she continued as the shiny Gallade crouched next to him. _"Tristan, this is Chief Medical Examiner Yuri Rashmonov."_

"_What do we got, doc?"_ Tristan asked.

"Judging from the descriptions given by eyewitnesses, it appears that she was poisoned, apparently through the use of a neurotoxin," the doctor explained.

"_A neurotoxin?"_

"Yes, a neurotoxin is a chemical-"

"_I know what a neurotoxin is,"_ Tristan interrupted, _"I just want to know how you're so certain?"_

* * *

As the M.E. explained to the shiny Gallade how neurotoxins worked and what the symptoms were, generally confusing the poor Pokemon, Frank approached the man with the faded R. "Could you come with me for a few minutes, sir? I need to ask you some questions."

Stevie Ray's eyes lit up. "Man, am I glad to see YOU! I was-"

"Just… come on," the detective growled, not wanting the enthusiastic reception as he pulled the former Rocket off a safe distance.

After they were some ways away from most of humanity, Frank stopped. "What the hell are you doing here, Stevie?"

The man fidgeted. "I-I was just-"

"Please don't bullshit me and tell me you're just an innocent bystander in all of this."

"I was just here to look around and maybe get stuff and I saw Donna and I just wanted to catch up and she ran away like she was scared or something-"

"Did you see what happened?"

Stevie Ray looked at the floor, ashamed to be there. "I was trying to get her to calm down and she acted like she got stung by something and then she just fell over and started shaking and she was dead in just a few moments."

"Did you see anyone or anything?"

"No, I really didn't."

Frank sighed and looked around. "For the love of everything sacred, profane, and otherwise, don't go wandering around proclaiming what you used to be. Not all cops are as forgiving. And for God's sake get rid of that fucking shirt. It's not a fucking fashion statement."

* * *

Stevie Ray was left alone as the detective walked back to his partners. "Let me guess. From what he told me, it's a neurotoxin."

Dr. Rashmonov looked at him with surprise. "Very good, detective. What type was used will not be known for certain until I get her to the lab."

"_Found this, too, Frank," _said Victoria, holding up an evidence bag.

The human stared at the tiny contents. "It looks like a dart of some kind."

"_It's the only one we found."_

"Which might explain why between the two of them, whoever did this probably had Donna targeted from the start and decided to stick to the plan. There's just one problem. Why target her?"

* * *

Frank stood there in the break room, head against the refrigerator, head full of confusion.

Hopfmar interrupted his murky train of thought. "Frank, we tried to do a roundup of other former Rockets to bring them in for questioning. Unfortunately, we only located one. She's in Interrogation now."

Sighing, the detective followed his superior.

Then he saw, through the one-way mirror, who was there, and stopped.

"I want Stuart in there with me," he blurted.

"But Frank," Hopfmar began, "I-"

"I WANT STUART IN THERE WITH ME! NOW!"

"It's all right, Captain, I'll go in there," Stuart hastily got out as he ran over and opened the door for his colleague to enter.

The woman sat at the table, her long red hair going straight off her head and staying stiff behind her. Her figure was well served by her tight lavender t-shirt. She sat there, bored and unhappy, twirling her finger around on the table in circles.

When the door shut, she looked up, and Frank's heart and stomach sank the moment he saw the light appear in her eyes.

"Well, what a surprise," she said. "You don't call yourself Michael anymore, do you?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**I would like to point out here that while I AM a fan of Texas Hold 'Em as both a spectator and as a player, I do not indulge in playing so much that it becomes an addiction. There are places and groups that can help you if you DO have a gambling problem, and I encourage you to seek them out under those circumstances. Gambling every once in a great while is fine. Letting it control your life is not.**

**I also am never going to consider myself an expert or a great player. You want to read Texas Hold 'Em stuff from experts, there are plenty of books available. People like Vanessa Selbst and Phil Gordon and Annie Duke would probably bust me in less than a dozen hands.**

**OK, now that I've probably bored the fuck out of you, language warning (ironic since I just dropped an F-bomb a few words ago!), and if you're offended by poker or gambling, well, warning for that too:**

Tristan, standing on the other side of the glass, was uncomfortable at the sight of Frank's mask of cold fury that disguised his own discomfort. _"What the hell's she talking about, Captain Hopfmar?"_

The captain sighed. "Long story. You want to hear the start of it?"

The Gallade shrugged. _"Do I have a choice?"_

"It was about two, three years ago…."

* * *

"Fold."

Frank Caldwell watched as the dealer took his two cards away. 7-2 was simply not going to work this time.

The tables for Texas Hold 'Em poker players were packed this evening at Celadon's Game Center ("Fuckin' stupid name," Dom LoMarco spat before the operation had started three months earlier. "It's a fuckin' casino, simple as that."). Frank had the luck, bad or otherwise, to get the table with seasoned players he had gone up against many times and whose strategies he knew all too well.

Except they still weren't entirely savvy to the ways of Michael O'Leary.

The first undercover assignment for Frank had come pretty much by accident. He had happened upon Hopfmar, LoMarco, and a few of the other, older, detectives playing Texas Hold 'Em in Hopfmar's garage after hours. The young detective had gone there to ask his captain some question and generally shoot the breeze, but he saw them playing (Alex, who was as new as he was, was dealing, using his Ghost-type abilities to deal the cards) and couldn't resist asking if he could join in.

"Sure, kid," LoMarco laughed harshly. "Another clock for me to clean."

About three hours later, LoMarco drove off in a profanity-laden huff. Frank had cleaned HIM out, as well as everyone else at the table. All those days and weeks of watching poker on TV and reading all the books he could on the subject had made Frank Caldwell a force to be reckoned with, at least amongst the unskilled.

So when the decision was made by several of the police departments in the Kanto region to send an officer undercover as a Texas Hold 'Em player with the intent of breaking into Giovanni's inner circle, LoMarco was pissed to find that he had been passed up in favor of the junior detective that had embarrassed him a few weeks earlier.

* * *

It had only been a short couple of weeks after Frank had joined the force that gun violence in Kanto and Johto increased dramatically. Drug gangs were migrating from Mexico and the United States, and they were finding guns in easier supply than in the past. Police were baffled, until they began tracking some of the guns and shell casings and came to the horrified realization that Team Rocket had reformed, and this time, stealing Pokemon was not their preferred form of business. Arms trafficking was.

Frank himself was not sure how playing poker was going to take the Rockets down once and for all, until he was told that the district attorneys needed proof that the highest levels of the hierarchy (read: Giovanni) were behind the problem. As it turned out, Giovanni had a reputation for holding private poker parties with a select few individuals. Perhaps if a Texas Hold 'Em-playing middleman named Michael O'Leary were to get in that inner circle and arrange a purchase of semi-automatic rifles with Giovanni….

And thus it was that Frank/Michael was in the casino that night several months after the operation started, no closer to getting to Giovanni. All he WAS doing was picking off players left and right, albeit rather slowly.

Stuart, ensconced at the slot machines, kept glancing over his shoulder at his colleague. "Guys, how long do we have to keep doing this?" he asked, seemingly to no one in particular, but in reality he was talking into his wire to Hopfmar and LoMarco, waiting in various sections of the building.

"As long as it takes, Stuart," the captain replied.

"We coulda gotten there faster if I was the one doing this," LoMarco complained.

"Well, if you didn't suck so badly at poker-" Stuart began.

"Don't you talk to ME about sucking, faggot!"

"I'll fucking kill you if you say that again."

* * *

_King of diamonds, jack of clubs, _Frank noted. _The flop came up nine spades, king hearts, and four clubs. I can play with this, but I'd like something good on the draw._

"Raise five thousand," he said aloud, carefully taking the chips out of his stack and edging them towards the pot, which had several thousand dollars in it already.

"Fuck this, I'm folding," one player immediately said, tossing his cards away.

"I'm out," added another, disposing of his hand.

That left two others. Both decided to call.

"Drawing," announced the dealer. He set another card on the table and flipped it up: king of clubs.

_Bingo. _"Raise ten."

"Twenty," one of the other two players immediately declared.

"Fold," said the man to his left.

_All right. So he thinks I'm either bluffing or he's got something good that he knows can take me. Maybe a pair of nines or fours. Which would suck a big pile of hot, rotten monkey dicks if that's the case._

"_Hot rotten monkey dicks"? God, I've been around Dom LoMarco too much._

"River card, gentlemen," the dealer said, and put the card down.

Jack of hearts.

_NO. FUCKING. WAY._

Trying his best not to betray his glee, he went for the kill. "Forty grand."

"Fuck you," snapped the other player. "I'm all-in." He shoved his chips forward, contempt in his eyes.

"Well? What do you got?"

The man flipped his cards. "Full house, nines over kings." He sat back down, a smug smile on his face.

"Nice. Too bad," Frank continued as he turned his pair over, "that it's inferior to kings over jacks."

"MOTHERFUCKER!" screamed the player. He stood up, held his face in his hands, and took a few moments to calm himself down. Finally, he looked at Frank. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I don't do this often. I usually can avoid stuff like this. I mean, what are the odds?"

Frank could not help but feel bad as the man walked away-

"Sir?"

He nearly jumped as the owner of the voice tapped him on the shoulder.

"I have been asked to inform you that you have been invited to participate in a private session with the Game Center's owner," said the man, brown hair extending down his neck. His badge read: STEVEN R.. "If you would, please."

"Could I have a minute to organize and rack my chips, please?" the detective asked.

"Certainly, sir."

Stuart watched furtively, trying not to start spontaneously celebrating. "Guys, I think we have a breakthrough."

"Well, it's about goddamned time!" snapped LoMarco.

* * *

After getting his things together, Frank followed the man to a wall. The man put his hand on a spot on the wall, and much to the detective's amazement, the floor opened and a stairway manifested itself. "This way, sir," the man said, leading him down.

And out of the corner of his eye, Frank saw him.

Giovanni looked like he hadn't aged much at all, the silver streak in his hair being the only betrayal. His suit was not as garishly pinstriped as the detective had expected, either. To one side, a slim yet well-endowed (relatively speaking, Frank mused) redhead stood in a dress that matched her hair, only the dress didn't stiffly extend like her hair did. There were several other people at the table, none of whom Frank recognized as he was led in.

"Ah, there you are," the head of Team Rocket intoned grandly. "I've heard plenty about your poker prowess from some of the dealers upstairs. Please, have a seat, mister, uh…."

"O'Leary," Frank lied. "Michael O'Leary."

"Ah, yes, silly me, I should have remembered when they told me about you. You will sit down, won't you?"

Frank sat down without another word, and Giovanni turned to the redheaded woman. "Katja, would you please get the gentlemen more drinks?"

"Certainly, sir," she replied. Frank instantly knew that despite her name, which suggested Eastern European heritage, she was from nearby.

"What will you have, Mr. O'Leary?" Giovanni asked.

"A Shirley Temple," Frank replied. "I avoid alcohol when I'm playing, it clouds my concentration and my judgment."

"Understood."

* * *

"Let me ask again," Frank said, impatience having flooded his voice, "where were you at 11:43 this morning?"

"I was at home fingering my pussy. Of course nobody can back it up!"

The detctive sighed. "So you're certain you had no contact with Donna after the breakup?"

Jessie rolled her eyes. "OK, let me repeat what I have been saying for the past fifteen minutes or whatever: I have had NO contact with ANY of my former Rocket grunts since you had us broken up. Is that so hard for you to understand, Frank Caldwell? Now if you two aren't going to charge me with anything, I would like to retreat to the relative calm of a bubble bath."

Frank sighed. "Fine, but I suggest you don't make any travel plans any time soon."

Jessie got out of her chair and almost ran Stuart over as he held the door for her.

The dark-haired detective then looked at his partner, who was visibly shaking in his chair. "Are you going to be all right, Frank?"

"No."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**I figured I might as well get a lemon produced right away so I can progress with the main story. And savor this lemon while you can: my guess is it will be a while before I write another one, and it WILL be crucial to the plot (I know, it's kinda shocking, right?). And in case you're wondering why it's not as good as past lemons of mine, well, I have an excuse (not a good one but still...): I was watching Spirited Away last night, and admittedly, I couldn't bring myself to go to my normal levels of explicitness. Any other anime film and maybe I would have.**

**By the way, I'd like to acknowledge a fellow Pokemon fanfic writer whose work inspired this story. "Dark Blue" by WiseAbsol inspired me to have the whole "undercover operation" storyline. That and it cemented my love of Sabrina (granted, as you might be able to tell, I kinda go nuts for all the hot female Gym leaders and Elite Four members, which would be almost all of the female Gym leaders and Elite Four members period). I recommend that you read WiseAbsol's stories (he is a huge fan of the Sabrina/Mewtwo pairing, as am I) because he is truly one of the best writers on this site. Probably better than me.**

**OK, enough rambling, language and strong sexual content warning:**

No sooner was Frank sure that Jessie was gone than he got to his feet and stormed out of the interrogation room. Hopfmar and Stuart tried to catch up to him but failed as he walked right out of the precinct. He stopped just outside the doorway, took a few deep breaths, then looked up to the sky as if staring at a Supreme Being that was mocking him.

And then he uttered the only thing that could come to his mind.

"FUCK!"

* * *

Ellen Caldwell watched through somewhat bloodshot eyes as her son wordlessly prepared for his date. "Are you sure you're going to be all right?" she asked.

He didn't answer.

"Frank, I'd really hate to see you go out with someone when you're in that bad of a mood," she added, concern in her voice.

"On the contrary," he replied shortly, "Sabrina may be the only thing that can help my mood right now!"

And without another word, he walked out.

* * *

"Something's bothering you, isn't it, Frank?"

The detective looked away from his date. "I really don't want to talk about it."

She looked at him, her chin resting on the back of her left hand. "You know, usually when someone says they don't want to talk about something, eventually they start talking about it."

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Something at work bothering you?"

"Now I CAN'T talk about it."

"See? Told you you'd start talking about it."

"Well, now I'm done talking."

"We can talk about something else, if you'd rather."

Frank didn't reply, only sighed.

The waitress finally arrived, trying to balance the plates. "Here's your pasta _primavera,"_ she said, setting a plate in front of Sabrina, "and here's your meat and cheese manicotti," placing another plate down in front of Frank. "Enjoy!" she chirped as she went to attend to other customers.

The Psychic-type Gym Leader picked up her fork and began eating, watching as Frank broodingly began to cut into the oversized stuffed pasta tube in front of him with his own fork. This went on for about a minute before she couldn't take it any longer. "Frank," she said, dropping her fork on the plate, "could you at least TRY to be happy? For me, at least?"

He sighed again. "I'm sorry, Sabrina, it's just that-"

"Stop, Frank. Leave your work at work for once and just relax. You're here for me, remember?"

Before Frank could answer, the doors flew open, and a man in nondescript clothes ran in as if chased. He tried to shove chairs around, a frantic look on his face, but the chairs were either left untouched or seemed to move as if by their own accord. Unable to restrain himself, Frank got up, and this did not escape the man's notice. In desperation, he flipped a table over, tossed a chair through a window, and went through the hole and was gone.

What happened next completely took Frank's mind off of Jessie and neurotoxins and Texas Hold 'Em. When the table was flipped, it seemed to land on something that wasn't there.

Then, in the middle of the nothing, a set of dark goggles, almost like sunglasses, rose, and the wearer, a shapely, short-haired brunette, sighed. As far as Frank could tell, she was wearing nothing but what seemed like a flesh-colored (and extremely form-fitting) bodysuit and a holster. Her pistol was still secured to her side.

"Did anyone see where he went?" the woman asked.

"Other than through the window?" Frank asked.

"Exactly."

"Not really, but I can get backup if you need it," he said as he offered his hand. She took it, and he picked her up. "You OK?"

"I'll be fine. Did you say 'backup'?"

The detective nodded.

"So, you're a cop too?"

"Frank Caldwell, Saffron P.D.."

A smile started to twitch at the corners of her mouth. Frank had to admit to himself that if Sabrina wasn't nearby, he'd be letting his eyes drink in the figure in front of him. "Motoko Kusanagi, Section 9," she introduced as police cars started to arrive, apparently having been called in by shocked onlookers.

* * *

"There's something weird about that cop," Sabrina noted as she and Frank started to wander out of the city limits.

The two officers had stood around for some time after they both gave their statements to the rest of Saffron's finest (Stuart had stood back, a bemused smirk on his face as he watched Frank try not to start flirting with the seemingly naked woman in front of him). Sabrina had sat back and watched, eating her pasta and watching her date's get cold.

"What do you mean?" he asked, trying to spot familiar constellations.

"Well, didn't she seem, oh, I don't know, out of place?"

"Everything that happened there was out of place, so what?"

"Come on, Frank. You can't tell me that a nearly naked woman who apparently can become invisible is normal."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Oh, I don't know! Maybe she's a cyborg from the future or something! Who cares?"

Sabrina chuckled. "At least you're taking it well."

They kept walking until they spotted a patch of grass near a path off the road. She turned and crouched so she could lie on her back, and her date did the same.

"So, what do you see?" she asked.

"Not sure yet," he answered.

They were silent for a while after that.

"Look," Sabrina said, breaking the silence, "I'm sorry if I came across as being pushy earlier. I mean, I shouldn't have pushed-"

"It's all right, Sabrina," Frank stopped her. "I shouldn't be taking my frustrations out on you anyway. It's not your fault. It's more my fault that I've pretty much wrecked our date."

"It's not wrecked yet," she replied, turning towards him.

"What do you-"

And he was cut off by a kiss, and since his mouth was already open, she had no trouble locking her tongue with his.

They stayed on the ground, her crawling on top of him and fumbling for the buttons on his shirt. He reached below and lifted her tank top up past her breasts, pushing her bra away as he did so. She moaned into his mouth as he massaged her, his thumbs twirling her nipples. She gave up trying for his shirt and decided to go straight for the kill, opening up his pants and reaching into his boxers and finding exactly what she was looking for.

Wasting no time, she began to stroke his length as he let one of his hands slide down and unfasten the button on her jeans and pull down the zipper. Sabrina started switching hands to work his cock as she pulled her pants down, and it was then that Frank noticed something.

"Oh, dear, sweet merciful god," he breathed, "you're not wearing any panties."

"I came well prepared," she answered in between kisses and moans as he began to tease her slit with his fingers. His other hand briefly disengaged from her breast to force his pants partway down as her back began to arch as his fingers darted around inside her, his thumb slipping back and forth between her soft patch of hair and her clit.

Neither of them could wait any longer. She moved forward and guided him in, and their lips stayed connected as she began to rise up almost until he was out of her, then dropped down again. She began to speed up the pace and he began thrusting with her, his shirt being pushed up so her breasts were pressed to his chest.

Finally, the combination of lust and speed got the better of them, and as she tightened around him, he slammed into her one more time and they both came, the heat of their fluids shoving them completely over the edge. Spent, she collapsed on him as they tried to catch their breath.

"That ended too fast," she panted. "We have to do it again, and this time drag it out a bit longer."

"Not out here, though," he pointed out. "We get busted and it's both our asses in trouble."

"I wouldn't mind you getting mine in trouble at my place. Hell, you can get both my ass AND my pussy in trouble, Frank."

"Well, what are we waiting for?! Let's get ourselves re-arranged and make a run for it!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**Language and content warning:**

Sabrina snuggled next to Frank's chest, his seed still fresh on her face after what felt like at least three hours of frenzied lovemaking. All the detective could do was stare up at the ceiling.

"Can I ask you a question?" she finally asked.

He sighed tiredly. "Sure."

"You were part of that sting operation that took down Team Rocket a couple of years ago, weren't you?"

"Well, 'sting operation' is putting it too mildly."

"But still-"

"Yes, I was."

"How did you even get close to some of them?"

"Oh, nothing much, just Texas Hold 'Em with Giovanni."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"That first game must have been intimidating for you."

"Well, actually…."

* * *

Frank could not recognize anyone other than Giovanni and the woman he called Katja as the dealer started passing the cards around. He waited for everyone else to make their decisions, then checked his own cards.

_Eight-four mixed? Really?_ "Fold," he said, sending his cards back.

He watched the other players, feeling that he did the right thing. It was confirmed when the first three cards on the table came up two nines and a seven. So he spent his time that hand being observant.

A couple of years later, he could not remember who won that hand. He felt certain that it wasn't Giovanni.

Nevertheless, the game continued.

* * *

About an hour later, two people had busted out of the game. Both Frank and Giovanni had snagged their fair share of pots, but the detective noticed a man in a loud suit and a cowboy hat exactly two spots between him and the dealer. He had also won a couple of pots, but he didn't sustain his luck for very long. Nevertheless, he remained overly boisterous, trying to shrug off his misfortune.

_I think I'm gonna try to knock him out._

He watched as Giovanni and another man made their bets from the small and big blind positions, then checked his own cards: Jack of spades and queen of hearts.

"Raise four," he said.

There was a snort. "Ha! I'll raise ya seven thousand!" yelled the cowboy hat-wearer.

_Wait it out, wait it out…._

Then the cards were dealt: six of clubs, jack of diamonds, three of clubs.

_OK, on second thought I'll bluff him out of the hand._ "Raise to nine thousand."

"Fourteen!" yelled the other man.

_Overconfidence or does he really have something or is HE trying to out-bluff ME?_

Seven of spades.

"Twenty." _Where the fuck is my head right now? I'm playing into his hands doing this! This isn't a bluff, this is poker suicide!_

"THIRTY!"

_GODDAMNIT._

Trying not to visibly freak out, he waited for the woman dealing to place down the last card.

And that's when he had to REALLY control himself.

_JACK OF CLUBS?!_

_Perhaps he has enough rope now…._ "Sixty thousand," he said, pushing his chips to the middle.

He watched the man's eyes widen in joy. "ALL-IN!"

Giovanni, who had been leaning in intently, watching the action, suddenly fell back in shock.

_This man has some serious problems, _Frank thought.

Before he could show his cards, the man flipped his own. "Two pair, sixes and sevens!"

_And he's hung himself._

Without the slightest hesitation, Frank showed his hand. "Three jacks. Thanks for coming."

It wasn't very classy on his part, but he did not care.

Giovanni began to slowly rise from his chair, but the man who had just gotten busted out of the game was on his feet first. "YOU CHEATIN' SON OF A BITCH!" he screamed at Frank as he lunged across his part of the table.

And then the boss of Team Rocket stood up and leveled a pistol at the man. "That will be quite enough," he said quietly.

"Are you going to tell me that you're going to let this cheatin' son of a bitch get away with-"

"I said that will be quite enough. Now, I suggest you leave before I give you another reason to leave."

The man's mouth opened and closed several times in rage, but he couldn't make a sound. Finally, he blurted, "I ain't gonna stand for this!" and stomped out of the establishment.

Giovanni sighed, put the gun on the table, and sat back down. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Mr. O'Leary. I usually try to avoid violent confrontation like that."

_Somehow I doubt that very much, _thought Frank.

"Anyway," continued the Rocket boss, "do you want to continue our game? I must say, I find you to be a very worthy adversary."

"Well, I prefer to not push my luck too much," the detective replied.

"Oh," Giovanni said, clearly disappointed. "I had really hoped you would stay a little longer. I should tell you," he continued, seemingly struck by a thought, "that I hold my private Texas Hold 'Em games here on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. So in two days, if you were to approach the person at the front counter and say that you desire a ten-pound Oran Berry with whipped cream, they would lead you here as they did earlier."

Frank smiled. "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

"How much longer is this gonna take?" groaned LoMarco, the weariness present in his voice.

"As long as it has to, I guess," yawned Stuart.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Frank emerge from somewhere around the tables.

"He's out, guys," Stuart whispered.

"All right, everybody, show's over," ordered Hopfmar. "Let's move out."

* * *

Frank walked alone in the semi-darkness to his car. The lights on their poles and the lights from the more-or-less casino were the only things illuminating his path.

_So I have an invite to his next game, _he thought. _It's a start._

Then he heard a click behind his head.

"YOU CHEATIN' SON OF A BITCH!"

_Oh. FUCK._

Then he heard a thud.

He turned and saw a flash of red as the woman he had seen at the game, the one Giovanni had called "Katja," pulled the man from the pavement and began kneeing him in the gut. Then she threw him head first into the window of a nearby car. He was dazed, but the window did not break, and she grabbed him by his short hair and began slamming his head repeatedly into the glass. She let go and he started to try to slowly return to a fully erect posture, but then she rushed forward and kicked his head against the window.

He slumped to the ground as a shocked Frank watched on. Jessie looked up at him. "He'll live," she assured him. "He's just going to be knocked out for a while."

"Uh, thanks, I guess?" stammered Frank.

She straightened up and brushed herself off. "Hey, the boss has taken a real liking to you. He rarely does that with any of his own underlings or any of the other players. I think you're pretty good, myself. So calm-"

"Well, that hand that he-" He pointed at the downed man as he spoke. "-was busted on, I was freaking out pretty bad. Usually, though, like you said, I'm better than that."

She smiled. It was perhaps the most sincere smile he'd ever seen in his life, at least from a Rocket. "So…. You'll be here next time?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**Language warning:**

Frank set the teapot back down on the burner of the stove after pouring the hot water into his mug to brew his tea. He then turned around and was treated to the sight of Sabrina leaning on the wall, one of his shirts hanging loosely on her illustrious body.

"Sorry I didn't join you in the shower," the detective said.

"Probably a good thing," she replied. "You probably wouldn't make it to work today if you did."

"Sad to say, you're probably right."

"It's too bad you have to go soon. I was hoping you could have executed a strip search on me."

"Oh god, Sabrina, please don't tempt me now-"

She sashayed over to him, slowly unbuttoning as she came closer. "You know you want to."

"No, really, I have to-"

Then she pushed him down on the chair and straddled him. "Aren't you going to interrogate your suspect?" she purred.

"Suspect?"

"For theft," she whispered as she put her arms around his shoulders and began kissing him. "Of your heart."

_Oh fuck it,_ Frank thought. _I might as well enjoy this. Day'll probably suck after this._

* * *

In a different house in a different part of town, a test tube hit the floor and shattered.

The owner tried to steady himself as he took a broom and swept up the fragments, thankful that there had been nothing in it. Had any of his weapon of revenge been in there….

_Revenge _was the only word in his mind. _Revenge revenge revenge revenge revenge revenge revenge revenge-_

He suddenly began to spasm, and he had to back up to a wall and brace himself to regain his composure. He really needed to take his medication, and soon.

And then he would continue his work of revenge.

* * *

As far as Stevie Ray was concerned, his job was the equivalent of hell on earth.

Standing next to a standard fast-food assembly line series of ovens, he sometimes had moments where he froze up mentally. And that was when his boss, the ogre, would strike.

"What are you standing around for?!" she screamed in an already-too-loud voice. "get back to work!"

Many times, Stevie Ray wanted to take that short, grotesquely obese bitch by her thinned-out blonde hair, shove her wart-infested ugly face down on the grill, and then throw her throw one of the huge windows like oversized trash. Unfortunately, he had to admit to himself that he lacked the balls to do it.

Sighing, he went back to watching frozen burgers fry.

* * *

All he would need for revenge was his blowgun, his jar, and another tiny dart.

And his meds.

He swallowed the pill, waited for his twitching to subside, then entered the building.

* * *

_Only reason she does this to me is because I reported her for sexual harassment,_ Stevie Ray thought sullenly to himself._ I BEGGED her to leave me alone, and she wouldn't. I couldn't even get her to get out of my car. Rubbing herself up against me all the time…. GOD!_

"STEVIE!"

_I want to die. I want to fucking die right now._

With another sigh, he kept flipping the burgers.

* * *

All Jessie wanted was something to drink.

She walked into the fast-food joint, keeping her head down so she could not be spotted by any security cameras.

_Medium coke, that's all I want,_ she thought. _I'm so thirsty right now._

She was about to approach the counter when she saw the ugliest woman she had ever seen doing absolutely nothing but yell at a miserable-looking person at a hot griddle, a miserable-looking person she instantly recognized as Stevie Ray.

_On second thought, I'll go to a gas station._

She spun on her heel and started to leave, but other customers started to surge in and she had to push her way through them to get out.

She did not see the man in the trench coat.

* * *

He carefully unscrewed the jar, then dipped the tip of the dart into the neurotoxin. He had to use extreme caution. He had formulated it so just the tiniest amount was lethal. Meaning a spill would be a massive disaster.

And he only wanted to kill a select few.

He put the dart in the blowgun, aimed it at the miserable man flipping burgers, and took a deep breath.

And then his hand twitched.

* * *

"I don't know how many times I need to tell you to get those burgers out!"

"All right, all right, I'm getting them," he grumbled, turning away.

He vaguely heard a yelp, a remark about a sting, and then a thud followed by screaming.

He turned back around and saw his boss convulsing on the ground, with other co-workers surrounding her.

_On the one hand, this IS terrible,_ he thought. _That's just like what happened to Donna yesterday._

_On the other hand, ding, dong…._

* * *

Stuart could not help but notice the self-satisfied look on Frank's face as the detective went over the reports from the previous day's events. "Do I even want to know what you're in such a good mood about?" he asked.

Frank merely kept smiling.

"I'll take that as a no." He sighed. "The worst part about being gay is that around here, there isn't as big of a pool of potential love interests."

"Hey, don't get mad at me-"

"I'm not. Maybe a little jealous, but not mad-"

Hopfmar marched right through them. "Grab your things and let's go," he said. "We have a homicide."

* * *

Frank was taken aback to see Stevie Ray standing off to the side. "Never told me you had a new job," the detective remarked.

"Well, until now, I hated it. It sounds horrible, but I'm kinda happy she's dead."

Stuart walked over to the two. "Sorry to interrupt, but you might want to see this, Frank."

The detectives walked to the back, and Frank noticed the monitors with security footage. A tech was playing the recordings over and over again. Most of them had one thing in common: a certain strange-haired woman leaving the premises around the exact time of the manager's death.

There was silence, then Frank started furiously shaking his head.

"No. It's not her."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**Just as a headsup, I'm going to put the Saffron Justice series on hold after this story so I can start another Pokemon series. Don't worry, it'll be for a short break, and then I'll come right back to this one. When I'm not doing all my Evangelion fanfics, of course.**

**Also, apologies for this chapter not really being that good. I wanted to get another chapter done but I've had other stories to write, plus life has been very draining for me on a personal level. Bear with me and I'll make sure the rest of the story is back up to my normal standards.**

**Language warning:**

"Frank, look at the damned video!" snapped Stuart. "She's RIGHT THERE!"

"It's not her, goddamnit!"

"Come on, you have to realize that she's a suspect! She-"

"Goddamnit, Stuart, she has nothing to do with this!"

Frank stormed out of the building. Stuart started to follow him but Hopfmar put a hand on his shoulder. "Give him time to cool down. And don't be so quick to say that Jessie is a suspect when you have a building full of them."

* * *

Frank watched as the dealer set up another hand. Giovanni had been doing well, with the detective not really noticing changes yet in his own stack.

The three other players were having luck in various degrees, good and bad.

The man to his left could not have picked a worse Hawaiian shirt to wear, and Frank hated his fauxhawk which stuck out like a sore thumb. Hayden was the man's last name (the detective never learned the first), and he played his game with little or no respect for the other players involved.

The man a couple of spaces to Frank's right, Ryan Blood, seemed obsessed with busting the detective and only the detective. His black hair was in a loose ponytail down his back, and his dark goatee seemed out of place on his pale face (Frank suspected he was anemic, but that was a thought born more of dislike than anything else). His oriental-inspired outfit seemed to fit in the general confines of the casino but looked bad here. He seemed to be on good terms with Hayden at least so Frank figured that getting one of them out would rattle the other.

Frank knew nothing about Hayden or Blood otherwise. But Seth Drakin, on the other hand….

Drakin was, on the surface, the owner of a chain of movie theaters, a man with a penchant for horror movies (preferably good ones), but he was known to be a major Mafia boss the likes of which the Kanto region had never seen. He made Giovanni look like a kid stealing candy: the stories were well told of how he would kidnap loved ones and torture them in front of whoever he was at odds with, how he would organize assaults on rivals just because he could, how he would lock people in rooms and force them to watch the Twilight movies until they almost killed themselves to try and end their suffering (then again, not many people in the regions really liked those movies anyway). As far as Frank knew, he had never crossed paths with Drakin, and he had no intention of doing so without help at any time after this.

Incredibly, the three soon were finished in very anticlimactic fashion. It was Drakin who knocked Hayden out with a pair of kings to top a pair of queens, and then a few hands later, a tripling of sevens allowed Giovanni to fell Blood. Six hands later, Caldwell finally got Drakin out, his heart flush topping Drakin's spade one by a king over a jack.

So as Frank sat there, about to lock horns one-on-one with the leader of Team Rocket, he had to try hard to keep his head from spinning out of control.

"Well, how much longer do you wish to continue, Mr. O'Leary?" Giovanni queried.

The detective leaned back. "I've got all the time in the world tonight."

"As do I," was the smiled reply.

* * *

Half an hour later, it was virtually a dead heat. Neither of them were able to get more than a couple of wins at a time, and where neither of them really bet anything large, the chips seemed to be glued to the table.

It was Giovanni who decided to end the stalemate. "Mr. O'Leary, it bores me to no end to be continuing this pointless back-and-forth charade. Might I propose that we end this?"

Frank leaned back in his chair. "What are your terms?"

"One hand. We both go all-in. Winner takes all."

"Agreed."

Giovanni nodded to the dealer, and Frank watched as the cards hit the table. Barely lifting the corners of his cards, he glanced down. Seven and jack of hearts. He glanced at his foe and could see a quiet tension. The flop yielded fives in both spades and hearts along with a three of hearts.

_Too easy to make a flush. Maybe I can use the jack as a high card._

Then the dealer flipped the eight of hearts.

_What am I, fucking Rain Man?!_

As soon as the river card, the five of diamonds, was dealt, Giovanni showed his hand. "Three of a kind, all fives. You?"

Silently, the detective turned over his two hearts.

"A flush," the Rocket boss remarked. "Impressive." Before Frank could speak, he continued, "If you can find time on your schedule- you know, you never did tell me what your employment was, if any, Mr. O'Leary."

"Freelance supplier," was the passive reply. He couldn't think of a more concealed way to say "gunrunner" than that, but it felt awkward on the tongue, at least to him, anyway.

"Supplier? In what, exactly?"

The detective lightly shrugged. "Whatever needs to be supplied."

"Ah, I see you play your life like you play your cards. If you can find the time, on Wednesdays and Fridays, I host a private Texas Hold 'Em game at my estate. Consider this your invite, Mr. O'Leary, Supplier Of Things That Need To Be Supplied."

Frank smirked. "So, do I get a map?"

Giovanni did not return the smile. "You will return to the casino, where one of my people will take you to the site. Once there, you will be guided to where I am holding court. Understood?"

"Ah, playing it safe, I see."

"Well, you can't be too careful in my line of business." He turned to the woman next to him. "Katja, will you escort Mr. O'Leary out until next Wednesday?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's note: I do not own Pokemon or related trademarks.**

**Apologies for a rather sloppy chapter. I've been busy on other projects along with real life non-writing stuff. That and writer's block. Next chapter should be better.**

**Language warning:**

"Any sign of Frank?" Hopfmar asked as Victoria and Tristan walked into the precinct.

"_Yeah,"_ the Gardevoir answered, _"he's down in the old Training Dojo beating the hell out of some of the fighters down there. Stuart must have really pissed him off."_

"Knowing Frank's past with Jessie, that doesn't come as a surprise. Though what does surprise me is how strongly he's been defending her."

"_Have you considered that maybe Frank's right?"_ asked Tristan.

"I'm not saying he isn't, but-"

"_Did we see ANYTHING on any of the security footage to suggest that Jessie is the only person who could have pulled off the two killings?"_

"_Besides,"_ his colleague and lover added, _"neither of us have been given a chance to do our own version of recreating the actual crime. So far all we know, you've got more suspects out there and we've only been focusing on one just because she's a former Rocket."_

Hopfmar sighed. "While I grant your point, Victoria, we don't have any evidence to say one way or another whether she IS involved."

"_Then what are we waiting for?"_

* * *

In the weeks of walking into the casino and going to the special room where Giovanni held court, nothing out of the ordinary ever happened to Frank Caldwell.

Getting a black cloth bag suddenly slipped onto his head as he entered? That was new.

"Hey! What the fuck-"

"Relax, kid," came a voice. "Standard procedure for anyone going to the boss' place."

"I'm assuming 'standard procedure' also includes handcuffs?!" he continued to protest as they got slapped rather roughly on and he was shoved ahead.

"Watch your step," said the voice, and before the detective could react he stumbled but was caught by unknown hands. "See, I told ya to watch your step."

The voice, which was distinctly masculine, then ordered someone to shut the door and drive.

"What-" began Frank, but he was cut off as the floor began to vibrate from a heavy engine and the whatever he was in lurched forward, causing him to hit the floor hard. _Thank God I didn't hit my head,_ he begrudgingly thought.

* * *

It took a few moments for him to get reacquainted with light as the cloth was yanked from his head. He had lost all track of how long it took from getting shoved in the vehicle to this moment, and his knees and back hurt from being shoved roughly to the ground.

"Ah, there you are, Mr. O'Leary," came a familiar voice. "I guess I should have warned you a bit more about our procedure so it wouldn't have been quite so shocking or painful."

He was able to make out the general shape of Giovanni, a shape that came into focus as his eyes became more adjusted to the light. "Maybe it's because I wasn't exactly expecting a kidnapping," he got out.

Giovanni feigned a shocked appearance. "A kidnapping, my good man? On the contrary, that was the start of your night of adventure, if you will."

"I'd rather not call it that."

"Then call it something other than a kidnapping. Come along, my personal dealer is setting up all hands now."

Much to Frank's bemusement, Seth Drakin was among the members of the party, and like everyone else that was not a member of Team Rocket, he looked like he'd been hauled away by some evil government organization. "Well, what a lovely surprise," the detective said with a silken mockery in his voice. "You really DO treat all of your guests like this."

"Just the important ones," Giovanni lightly let pass.

"I think you should define 'important' a little more carefully," Drakin quietly shot back.

The Rocket boss ignored him as he sat down. He nodded to a dark haired woman in uniform, who began to deal the cards. Frank let his fall in front of him, then waited for the rest to bid. He began to lift up his cards when he felt his fingernail snag.

_What the-_

And that was when he noticed the tiny yet clean cut in the six of clubs.

At the same time, he heard a slight scraping coming from Drakin's side of the table.

_These cards are rigged._

* * *

With his dishonest advantage, Giovanni made short work of everyone at the table with the sole exception of Frank, and that was only because he had been folding at an alarming rate. Constantly being forced to change strategies was starting to wear thin, and it was starting to screw up his gameplay.

Nevertheless, he adapted, and by now he had only lost a fraction of what he had started with. The only problem was that Giovanni rarely lost a hand or was forced to fold.

So now Frank knew that he'd either need to find a way out of the game without losing his chance to nail Team Rocket to the wall or charge ahead and try to break their boss. As impossible as it seemed, he decided on the-

"I'm afraid to tell you that it is getting late, Mr. O'Leary," the man in the detective's thoughts interrupted, "and much as I would love to continue this game into the wee hours of dawn, I have a busy schedule tomorrow, as I'm sure you also do. Continue next week?"

"I don't see why not," replied the "supplier."

Giovanni smiled at that. "Good. Same time, same place, same routine. Until then, I bid you adieu."

His last words were muffled a bit as the black hood was dropped on Frank's head without warning and the unceremonious process which was used to transport him was now used in reverse.

* * *

Frank sighed as he cautiously walked into the bookstore.

Normally, he would not approach a bookstore while looking around to see if anyone was following him, but this was a gay bookstore and novelty shop. A cop of any sort heading into one could cause onlookers to jump to any possible wrong conclusion regardless of true motive. To make matters more awkward, there was a room secluded in the back where men could go to give or receive blowjobs. And THAT was where Frank was headed.

Mercifully, the owner had been warned in advance, and he checked to make sure nobody was following the detective before leaning in close. "He's at the gloryhole already," he whispered. "Has been there for fifteen minutes now. I can't stall forever."

"It'll just be a couple of minutes," Frank reassured him before heading to the back room.

Once the door was closed, he knocked sharply twice on the wall.

"Took you long enough, Frank," came the bitter voice of Stuart.

"Yeah, well things could have gone better. I've got a problem."

"There's pills for that."

"Not funny this time. Giovanni uses a rigged deck."

"Normally I'd mock you for that but I know the implications as much as you do. Think you can slip in a clean deck without him knowing?"

"I think he has it memorized."

"Shit, you're probably right."

"Best I can do is keep going and hope I don't bust. I bust, we may lose our chance."

"Speaking of which, might want to get out of here before the real customers get pissed off."


End file.
